The Doctors waiting room
by BritishAlien
Summary: There is a room in which those who are to become the Doctor sit and wait. Hear them whisper. x


The Doctor's waiting room.

-x-x-x-

09.59

Nearly time. The old clock, which hung upon the blank grey wall behind the rooms occupants, reminded them as each tick of its handle filled the stunned silence. The room was occupied by four men, but nobody would have known if they were to listen in. They had been watching the events of recent times with sheer disbelief. Everything, literally _every_ thing, had rested upon the actions of the current self, the man who refused to call himself Doctor, and now, as time thankfully ticked on, the next man knew his time was coming and the anticipation began to build. All four men had their eyes firmly glued to the old screen, which hung on the opposing wall to the clock, as the current self walked away from the painting and back to the safety of his TARDIS. He stepped inside with the door shutting firmly behind him.

In the waiting room, the man with the cropped hair and big ears pushed himself up from the leather chair that he had been perched on for so many years. Like a spark, he had felt an urge to stand. His eyes didn't leave the image on the screen. It was like he was transfixed. The visual feed was now coming from the TARDIS herself and every second was being relayed back to the waiting room monitor. As soon as the door had slammed shut and the TARDIS dematerialised, he had known. He could feel it. His time was coming. He was being drawn towards the one way door which led out of the steadily emptying room and into…well…none of the men liked to speculate what lay beyond that door for them. The other three men turned their heads as the fellow made his way towards the wooden door to their right.

The Doctor on screen, for now he was the Doctor, his actions had enabled him in his last moments to deserve that title at last, clambered up the gang plank to the central console. He reached the main console when he realised his hands were starting to glow. The man with the shaved head stared at what was happening on screen. Here it was. Show time. He ripped his eyes away from the screen and focussed solely on the wooden door that led to the next adventure.

A neon sign next to the door flashed red: 'Hurry up please its time'.

'Oh yes, of course.' Came the voice of the Doctor. He brought his hands up in front of him. He didn't look scared. He didn't look worried. At last, his duty was done and it was another man's task to take up the challenge. 'I suppose it makes sense. Wearing a bit thin.' Time to die at last. 'I hope the ears are a bit less conspicuous this time.' His eyes looked up at the central gallopiter as it steadily rose and fell. The TARDIS was in control now. She would know where to go. Then in a flash, the Doctor fell into sleep and allowed the regeneration energy to take over. The golden glow bathed him in light.

The wooden door suddenly burst open, like it had done eight times before then. It swung on its hinges and hit the wall next to it with an almighty bang. The other men shielded their eyes as all that could be seen on the other side was a bright white void. The wind howled like a wolf in the night. It tore at their ear drums. It was screaming, but the man by the door, however, was not afraid. He stared at the whiteness in sheer awe. He felt his smile grow as he looked deeper into what lay ahead of him.

'Oh…Fantastic!' He grinned wildly before stepping into the white. As soon as he had crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut behind him. There were three men left in the room. All stared at the door as it barricaded them against the future. The silence after the howling wind was numbing. The only sound that could be heard was their breathing as all three men steadied themselves. This had happened before, of course. Each man had stood by the door and watched the howling void invite him to dance. The scream was grim and hungry, but still each man stepped through the door. Those left behind never knew whether it was due to their sense of inevitable duty or intrigue. They'd all find out one day.

Their eyes quickly flashed towards the screen where the man with the big ears had become fully formed like a photograph that had finally developed and defined. He fell to the floor in complete exhaustion whilst the TARDIS carried the new Ninth Doctor safely across time and space.

'Unconscious.' The man with the spiky hair scoffed.

'You can't really blame him. The Warrior…no…the Doctor went through hell. The time lines are shifting all around him. It'll be a relief if he can function when he wakes.' Said the man with the enormous chin.

'I don't envy him y'know.' The other announced, eyes unblinking, watching the slumbering Doctor.

'None of us do.' Replied the man with spiky hair.

'He'll have to live with the knowledge that he is alone in the universe. The only survivor.' Said the chin.

'And it is all his fault.' The other murmured. All three men took a moment to consider this. The future was something that was seldom discussed. Only in the few moments before and after regeneration. They all knew that they would one day become the Doctor. They were the forms that were destined to continue this man's story. They knew what was coming for them in that respect. They would live with the guilt and regret. In time.

'It's safer than the truth for now.' Spiky hair added.

'Safer does not mean it's alright.' The chin replied.

'No, but then after what has just happened, do you think he'll ever be 'alright'. What it meant to be the Doctor has gone. It means something else to be that name. And it's that man…' the other said, pointing at the unconscious Doctor, '…who will define that from now on.' All three men stared at the Doctor.

10.00

-x-x-x-

Thank you for reading.


End file.
